A Story of Recovery:

Bright Lights, Big Recovery

As a child I grew very overweight. I was left home alone often and used food to suppress my feelings. If I felt anxious, excited, or overwhelmed, my first reaction would be to turn to food. I saw my father do the same thing with alcohol. Although it felt good in the moment, and I thought I was getting the comfort I needed, I was taking actions that had a negative effect on me.

Kids on the school bus teased me. I could not wear normal-sized clothes and I would be embarrassed to take my T-shirt off in dance class. I felt horrible, and the more horrible I felt, the more I would eat. Once I started eating, I could not stop. I always wanted more. The only time I was not focused on food was in drama class or on stage.

I got to adolescence and decided I wanted to lose weight. I started dieting, exercising, and micro-managing food; I thought I was doing a wonderful thing. I lost weight, but the way I went about it was quite violent and extreme, and I did not know how to maintain it. I became obsessed with diets and weight-loss programs and lived in fear of getting fat again. I did all the diets I could get my hands on. A lot of my parent’s money went for personal trainers and spiritual healers. I got colon cleanses and took all sorts of pills and potions. I drank huge amounts of coffee to keep me buzzing so I did not have to eat. I even got anti-depressants in the hope that they would control my weight. I tried replacing food with alcohol. The list goes on. I had a skinny body, but I was crazy—and starving. I developed bulimia and almost choked trying to make myself throw up with a toothbrush. I would fluctuate in size—skinny one Christmas holiday, fat the next.

These negative actions progressed. My life got narrow, my body stopped working, and I stopped getting my period. I lost friends and was an emotional wreck. I had no patience for people. I thought everyone was in the wrong and that it was always the other person’s fault that I was so unhappy.

I could not focus or concentrate at school. I was secretive, fake, and competitive.  I could not show up for my life, and life became completely unmanageable. I felt distant from everyone around me, especially from those I loved. I wanted to get out, but I did not know how.

I managed to graduate from high school. I then became a student at the National Institute of Dramatic Arts, where more than 3,000 people audition to get in and only 26 get selected. I was one. I thought this was the answer, my dream-come-true. The achievement forced me to get my act together a little, but my mind still got the better of me. I was fine during the day in class, but by night I would go to the gas station and buy food.

It was that year that my mother was admitted into a mental hospital. I could not deal with the way my life was turning out, and my problem progressed. I reverted back to the way I ate as a child—non-stop, without a care in the world. The weight came back on and I was bigger than ever. All I could think about was what I could eat or what I needed to get rid of. I felt like I was on a slow road to death.

I finally built up the courage to get myself to an FA meeting that someone suggested. I will never forget the feeling of relief I had when I walked in the room. The people at the meeting claimed to have some of the same negative thought patterns or responses to food that I had. They were open, honest, and happy to share their stories of food addiction. After the meeting, some people approached me. I was in tears. They all seemed to agree that this thing called food addiction was not their fault; that it was like a disease that affected them spiritually, physically, and emotionally, that it had started to take over their lives and they had found a clear path to recovery.  I asked them what I had to do to get some help and how much I had to pay. They said it cost nothing, but I had to be willing to go to any lengths. They also suggested that I try to remain open to the idea that a power greater than myself could restore me to sanity. They said I should come back and listen to a few more meetings. (And I thought I was just going be given a new diet!)

There was a part of me that really did not want to go back, but the stronger part of me knew I had to. I completely identified with the stories these people had to share. They were so positive. They spoke with such honesty and clarity. They all seemed to have an inner glow about them. It was kind of daunting, but I wanted my inner glow to come back. Thank God for the thing inside me that enabled me to recognize the positive vibrations (and ignore the negative ones) that I felt. I surrendered. I decided to take their suggestions and go back.

From that day, my life began to change for the better. I have been given a chance to start over again. I started to take the positive actions suggested by FA members— stop eating the food that sets up this uncontrollable craving in me. Work the tools, read the literature, attend meetings, call my sponsor, and take care of myself.

As a result of taking these actions, I am living a life I never thought possible. I live in a beautiful, healthy, right-sized body. I have neutrality around food. I see food as my fuel and my medicine. I don’t use food as my friend or my lover, to relieve tension, to suppress my feelings, or as a drug. I know how much to eat and at what time. I am very clear about what foods cause my body harm. The thought of making myself throw up never crosses my mind.

A power greater than myself has replaced the power food had over me. By taking positive action, I have experienced a personality change. I feel more present and connected to my friends and family. I have much better self esteem and know where to get help when I need it. Today I am able to share my experience, strength, and hope with others who are still suffering. I am a sponsor, and I’m so grateful for the lessons I learn from my sponsees. They remind me of how far I have come. I love watching their light get bright. I am grateful for what I have in my life today and know that to keep it, I have to give it away.